


As Earned

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham honors Bruce Wayne, and Bruce the Bat broods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Earned

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 011907 Prompt #1 _Best -- Simple, basic concept: Someone's getting an award, receiving gushing praise, being complimented and/or lauded as a genius at what they do._

Bruce turned the plaque over in his hands. Flip--fine grain high polish dark walnut. Flip--smooth mirror flash brass. Flip--the blur of his outline reflected in shadow. Flip--the cut of his features reflected in soft light.

To Bruce Wayne. For Great Civic Philanthropy. Above and Beyond the Call of Duty. A True Citizen of Gotham.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

It was substantial, weighty in his hands. Not the heft of a batarang or grapple gun, but the cool of the brass and the warmth of the wood felt good against his skin. Familiar without being quite right. The things that surrounded him at work, an office, seated at a desk.

Deserved to be substantial, considering the thousands upon thousands he sunk into his city. Her people. Their silent hope for tomorrow.

He ran his fingertips over inscribed words, the Gotham City Seal, the Mayor's signature, his name. There had been fanfare and the press, handshakes and congratulatory nods, attaboys and you are a Son of the People.

New research hospital wing. Earnest thanks from the kids in wheelchairs who had shown up to wave flags and release balloons. Urban renewal project, East Gotham Quarter. Eager thanks from the low income families who finally had a decent place to take pride in calling home. Expansion of the Businessmen For Gotham Society. Oily smiles and indulgent _yes this is beneath us_ hidden winks from CEO-class elites who took advantage of the positive face time.

Bruce held the plaque at its corners, let it come still, neither side facing him.

Undeserved recipient, considering the thousands upon thousands of sacrifices his other had made to this city. Her underbelly. Their desperate yearning that there be a tomorrow.

Batman would never be thus thanked. There would be no flutter of white-cut confetti from the heavens, billow between the towering skyscrapers down onto a cleaned up block of city street. The Mayor would never gladly take his gloved hand, shake it proud and firm and smile one more shot, election's around the corner. No one would add his sponsorship name to their letterhead, simply because he was _Batman_ and it would make their company look good.

All things come with a price.

Bruce flipped the plaque and stared at himself.

Everything.

"Hey, how about this?" Dick smiled as he approached, hinged plate-holder waving in the air.

"Where'd you find that?"

Dick shrugged, took the plaque from Bruce's hands, started across the Batcave towards the back, footsteps echoing while bats fluttered and shifted. "In the study."

Bruce followed, furrowed his brow. He pictured everything in the study--his desk, the sofa and chairs, the mantle over the fireplace, all the shelves loaded with books and artifacts. "Is Alfred aware that you stole that out from under my Byzantine glazed pottery of Digenis Acritas and his lover?"

"Hm. I might have liberated this and found something else for that old plate." He looked over his shoulder at Bruce and grinned, he nudged this and that around on the stonecut shelves that lined the back sloping walls of the Cave, filled with what was truly important to their Batselves. "I propped it up with your pewter tortoise."

"I liked the tortoise on my desk."

Dick set the plaque into the plate-holder and admired his handiwork. "It looks good where it is. There's that gray mosaic work on the outer circles of the plate's design. Ties in nicely with the pewter's patina." He hummed, considered the plaque.

Bruce was about to put an end to all this--stay Dick's busy, well-meaning hands--stuff the plaque somewhere dry and forgotten, high away in the attic, when Dick snapped his fingers. He lifted the plaque, spun it and set it back down, displayed it black-shadow side out, beveled edges and dull gleam presence that exuded importance, subtle and powerful, hidden. Within.

Dick backed into Bruce, snuggled with sure insinuations, then nodded. "Better. Much better."

Bruce's arms fit around Dick without question, on instinct, and he breathed in Dick's scent, nibbled at Dick's neck.

Their forms blended in the walnut reflection, shoulders and hips, heads side to side, knot of their hands at Dick's thigh.

"C'mon, Bruce." Dick turned on his toes, kissed Bruce hot and quick, then tugged on their entwined hands. "Can't leave you here unattended after today. You'd fall into your navel and we wouldn't see anything but BroodyFace for days. Alfred's congratulations dinner is on the table--one of your favorites--with cheesecake for dessert. Chocolate layer cheesecake." Fingers brushed his, promises of later, whispers of love and hunger, private congratulations yet bestowed.

Bruce smiled, let Dick lead him away, considered the plaque, the sides, the rightness of the one that Gotham saw, and the one that Gotham knew. Hand in his, Dick at his side, upstairs to find Alfred and Tim, ready to razz him, be together, share this. _Everything this_.

All Bruce--Batman--deserved.


End file.
